


The Orchid and Dragon

by 1010nabulation



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Drinking, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Open Relationships, Requited Love, Secrets, background Csethiro/Vedero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1010nabulation/pseuds/1010nabulation
Summary: The imperial couple have a loving open relationship, and while Csethiro has found a beautiful relationship with Vedero, Maia has been reluctant to make his own desires known to the one he loves. Inspired by a certain nesecho, a romantic poem, and a fair amount of wine, he decides to make his move…





	The Orchid and Dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goddamnshinyrock (micaceous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/micaceous/gifts).



> Happy Coronation Ceremony to you! I hope you enjoy this!

Lieutenant Beshelar cleared his throat, startling Maia so much he nearly dropped the delicate obsidian night owl nesecho he had been handling.

Beshelar bowed curtly. “Apologies, Serenity, but we must remind you that dusk is approaching and you have dinner to attend at Court.”

“Thank you, Beshelar,” Maia said, softly setting the owl down onto the artisan’s velvet showing cloth. “We had better be leaving Cetho soon, then.”

It wasn’t often that he got to do his own buying in town, but this was a special circumstance. Dachensol Masgreved, one of the most renowned carving artisans in Barizhan, would only be in Cetho from for a short time, and nesecho were very personal items. Maia would choose his own. And so as not to disrupt the artisan’s brief trading hours, he would visit the shop personally rather than call him up to the Alcethmeret.

Of course, he did so with a full entourage of not only his First Nohecharei, but also four Hezhethoreise Guards--two within the shop itself and two stationed outside of it. And while he was inside the shop, no other customers were allowed to browse.

A glance at the clock on the wall told him he’d already spent two long hours poring over the selection of finely carved nesecho in the Barizheise artisan’s extensive collection. Far too long already.

And yet he could not pull himself away. There was one nesecho he had to admit to himself he wanted… but was almost afraid to take. 

It was an orchid, intricately carved out of iridescent moonstone. Maia picked it up for what must have been the fifth time, holding it between thumb and forefinger so that the light shone through it, casting tiny sparks of blue and pink and green across the dark blue velvet the wares were laid upon.

“Your Serenity likes that one, yes?” said the artisan, a twinkle in his eye. “Maybe you use it sometime when you must be apart from your empress for a long time, so she knows you look forward to being with her.”

Maia blushed so fiercely he wondered if it was noticeable even through the dusk of his skin.

The meaning of the orchid, it had been explained to him when it’d first caught his eye, was carnal desire. Any letter tied with one, regardless of the nature of its contents, gave a direct indication of one’s amorous intentions.

If he took this nesecho, it would not be Csethiro who would receive it. All the better if everyone thought it was so, though. Finally, Maia set the orchid with the others he had chosen.

Without meeting the artisan’s eyes, he murmured, “Thank you, Dachensol Masgreved, for your time and your patience with us. We’ll take these.”

\---

Breakfast with Csethiro was a quiet affair the next morning. She was much preoccupied with looking over the star charts to familiarize herself with the constellations before setting out to Vedero’s estate for several nights of stargazing. It made Maia smile to see the light in her eyes. The real reason she examined those charts, he suspected, was that she wished to impress Vedero with her foreknowledge.

Intelligent conversation was, he knew, quite an attractant to both of them. Like as not they’d end up in one another’s arms beneath that blanket of stars.

“We may be able to see a fall of meteors tonight,” Csethiro was saying, pointing down at the chart on the table between them. “If, that is, the moon’s light does not prove too bright.”

“Mmm,” Maia hummed with his teacup to his lips, fragrant chamomile steam warming and waking him gently. “Thou’lt have a wonderful time regardless, I imagine.”

She smiled and looked up at him. “And what of thee, my love? Dost have plans to occupy thyself with while I am away?”

Maia took another gulp of tea, feeling its heat sink all the way down to his belly. “I, ah… not as yet,” he admitted. There was that blush rising to his cheeks again as he thought of the orchid nesecho, now nestled in a velvet-lined box along with the others he’d chosen, waiting on his writing desk with the rest of his personal correspondence supplies.

Csethiro gave a gently exasperated sigh and dropped one hand beneath the table to squeeze his thigh warmly. “Wilt tell him soon?” she said, her voice low enough that only he might hear. “Only I do not know how much longer I can stand to see thee pine, when I am so nearly certain he feels the same.”

“Nearly,” Maia whispered back, “is exactly the catch.”

“ _Maia._ The way he looks at thee, there is no way he does not love thee.”

“There are many kinds of love. If he loves me, perhaps it is love of country, or of his emperor regardless of who it is, or friendly love.” He picked at the corner of his scone, watching the crumbs gather on the plate it rested on.

Csethiro leaned in to whisper directly into his ear, her hot breath sending tingles down his spine. “Hast not caught him staring at the curve of thine arse as he follows thee down the halls of the Alcethmeret, or seen him stealing glances at the tight fit of the front of thy trousers whenever thou stand’st up. I _know_ the heat of that gaze. It matches my own for thee… and Vedero.”

Just then Isheian returned to clear the breakfast dishes, murmuring apologies. Maia sat back stiffly in his chair, fighting to keep his expression neutral though his blood was pounding in his ears. He watched as Csethiro sipped her tea, a knowing smile playing at her lips. 

“I just want thee to be as happy as hast made me, in telling me to follow my heart. And in telling Vedero to follow hers.” Csethiro rose and wrapped her arms about Maia’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair, still in its loose sleep braid. “Shouldst take thine own advice sometimes.”

\---

Csethiro’s words stuck with Maia that entire day. He made so many mistakes during his morning riding lesson that Dachensol Rosharis suggested they end early, to Maia’s great embarrassment. 

Follow his heart, Csethiro had said. But he was not accustomed to doing so. Was, in fact, constrained by custom and duty not to in most things. And his heart yearned now for someone he could not openly have, someone he cared for and depended on so much he feared damaging what relationship they already shared if he were to make his feelings known.

At luncheon Kiru asked what might be ailing him, he ate so little. Maia assured her it was nothing, yet allowed her to send for some soothing gingermint tea. Later that afternoon, his preoccupation continued. It was a trial to stay focused enough on the proceedings of the meeting of the Corazhas, such that Csevet approached his side to ask if there was ought he needed of him.

Maia’s heart caught in this throat and his face flooded with heat, ashamed to have been caught so obviously stealing glances at Csevet. Maia insisted he was quite all right, but Csevet’s attention remained on him through the entire rest of the meeting. He admitted gratefulness for the extensive notes Csevet took about what was discussed, for he could not have said what the Corazhas had talked of that day if asked. Luckily it seemed not to be a matter they needed much of his input on, for apart from a few curious or bemused looks his inattention was not remarked upon. Only Csevet seemed concerned.

Even a brief meditation break afterwards did not quiet his racing thoughts and jumbled emotions. How could he ask the goddess Cstheio to know him when he was so afraid to let the mortal object of his affections do so? That fear was preventing him from speaking his heart. 

When evening finally came and his most pressing obligations were through, Maia was relieved when Csevet offered to make his excuses at Court so that he might take dinner alone in his own rooms instead. He gladly accepted, and allowed Csevet the rest of the evening to himself as well.

He dined with only Telimezh for company, who insisted he eat some of the tender white fish in citrus sauce, but was otherwise blessedly quiet. If either he or Isheian were surprised when Maia asked for a carafe of ice wine to drink, they did not show it. It was not his custom to drink much at all, let alone by himself, but tonight he thought it might do him good. If he could not quiet his mind through meditation, perhaps quieting it this way would allow him to let his heart lead.

When the shifts switched and Cala took Telimezh’s place at his side, half the carafe of sweet ice wine was gone. Greeting Cala, Maia rose from the table with glass in hand and waved for him to follow (as though he would do aught else). There was just a slight wobble to his step as he made his way into his bedchamber and from there fell into the seat at his writing desk.

“Have you ever written a love letter, Cala?” Maia asked, pulling out a sheaf of fine parchment and preparing a fine quill pen with dark blue ink. “I fear I don’t know how to do this.”

Cala’s brows rose in surprise. “Not many, Serenity. Mer Aisava could likely better advise you. Shall I fetch him?”

Laughter bubbled up out of Maia in a startlingly loud peal. “No! No, I can’t possibly ask Csevet to help me write his own--” Maia bit his loose tongue, “--my own love letter.”

“Ah.” The smile on Cala’s face was far too knowing. There was no judgement in his eyes, though, as beautifully clear and kind as ever. “Then perhaps I can help.”

Cala knew of the open arrangement he and Csethiro had agreed upon, as did all the nohecharei--it would have been impossible and also foolish to try and hide something of that nature from people mandated to be by Maia’s side at all times. Still, this was the first time he’d act on that arrangement. Csethiro had taken up with Vedero immediately, months ago, and it warmed his heart to see how happy they both were. He felt no jealousy, as Csethiro loved him as deeply as she did Vedero. And while he yearned to share something similar with Csevet, he was also scared to try.

“How do you tell someone how you feel when you do not know if they share those feelings? When they have many reasons not to, in fact? And even if they do, acting on those feelings might be dangerous?” Maia asked, chewing on this thumb and staring at the blank page rather than meeting Cala’s eyes. “And how do you make it sound romantic on top of all that?”

It took a moment for Cala to respond. Maia appreciated the thought he put into his words. 

“I think,” he said, his voice light and quiet, “that you should not worry overly much, Serenity. Poetry is always romantic, if I may suggest that. It would not have to be your own. I have been enjoying that book of Barizheise poetry you have been reading aloud to us all in the mornings; perhaps something from that?”

Maia’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Yes! That is very helpful; thank you, Cala.”

“And,” Cala continued, warmth in his tone. “If I may be so bold as to say this, I believe you should trust in your recipient. Whoever you may be writing to is likely more than capable of making their own choices, considering the calibre of people you choose to surround yourself with.”

“Thank you, Cala,” Maia said again. He closed his eyes. Csethiro and Cala thought he should follow his heart and trust in Csevet. It seemed sound advice.

He set pen to parchment.

_To Csevet, my esteemed friend:_

_Please forgive my familiarity if it offends, but I must speak my heart. I would be honored if thou wouldst join me for a drink tonight._

_Dost remember the poem Torvru Nolemreched wrote of drinking with the celestial dragon in his star kingdom that we read last week? The wine I have is not as sweet and won’t grant eternal life, but I would be as glad of thy company as the dragon was of Nolemreched’s. My wife has her own dragon with which to share her life, as well._

_If dost not feel the same, art not compelled to come. The choice is thine and I will not begrudge it._

_With deepest respect,  
M._

Setting quill aside, Maia reached for his glass and drained it, the wine cool on his tongue and warm in his belly. With his heart racing even as his blood buzzed pleasantly in his head, Maia took the orchid nesecho out of its case and threaded it with a red ribbon, tying it about the rolled-up parchment as Dachensol Masgreved had shown him so that the tiny silver bead would release the letter with a light pull.

Before he lost his courage, Maia got up and took the letter with him, veritably rushing for the door out of his rooms. “I must deliver it myself.”

The last thing Maia wanted was for one of the page boys to recognize the significance of the nesecho. While they were young and not all of goblin descent, it was not outside the realm of possibility that they might.

Beshelar made a noise of affront as Maia breezed past him, muttering something along the lines of it not being proper for an emperor to be seen outside his quarters at this hour, and was he _inebriated_? Cala shushed him, which Maia was grateful for.

It wasn’t far to Csevet’s quarters. Once there, Maia came up short, half out of breath, hand poised to knock upon the door. The halls were quiet and empty at this late hour. What if Csevet was already asleep?

“There is a light on within,” Cala whispered. “Go ahead.”

“Quickly,” Beshelar added gruffly.

Sure enough, a soft warm glow of lamplight spilled from beneath the door.

Before he could begin to overthink things, Maia knocked. There was a soft rustling, and then the door opened and he was face-to-face with Csevet, braids down and shining like a halo of long dandelion silk. For a moment all Maia could do was stare, lightheaded as he was.

“Serenity? Is something the matter?”

“Oh! Ah, no. Sorry to disturb you so late.” Maia winced at the clumsiness of his tongue. He held out his hand, proffering the letter. “I came to give this to you. It’s not--there’s nothing wrong, and it’s not urgent. Please take it.”

Perplexion clear in his beautiful rain-colored eyes, Csevet took the letter. Maia thought he caught the barest hint of Csevet’s eyes widening as he saw the nesecho, but dismissed it as imagination.

“Thank you. Good night!” Maia said, as he turned and veritably fled down the hall back to his rooms. He left without allowing Csevet a word, too afraid he might answer with too much truth were he questioned as to his intentions.

As soon as he and Cala were within the walls of his own chamber again, with Beshelar guarding the door from the drawing room, Maia shut the doors and leaned heavily against them, nerves jangling.

He’d done it. Now his heart was in Csevet’s hands.

\---

Not ten minutes later, a knock sounded on his door. Beshelar opened it and announced in a low voice that Csevet was without seeking an audience with Maia.

Heart in his throat, Maia nearly choked on the words as he spoke. “Yes. I invited him. Please, show him in.”

He watched as Beshelar and Cala exchanged a glance, after which he thought Beshelar’s expression had inexplicably softened somewhat. Beshelar nodded and stepped aside, allowing Csevet to enter.

Csevet was hastily dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his hair up but not nearly so perfect as it usually was. It was the most disheveled Maia had ever seen him. There was a blush high across his fine cheekbones and staining the tips of his alert, excited ears. Csevet’s eyes were wide.

“Serenity, I--are you asking what I think you are in this letter? And this nesecho…” he trailed off, opening his palm to reveal the bright opalescent orchid.

Maia ran his hands over his face, ears flattening to his head. “Csevet, I’m sorry.” He swallowed thickly. “I love thee. And would be lovers with thee, as the poet with the dragon, as--as Beltanthiar with Hanevis. Csethiro and I have an arrangement; we love one another but we also encourage each other to find love where we will. The nesecho--”

“Is an orchid, for desire,” Csevet finished for him. “I know. That is one nesecho I saw enough as a courier to glean its meaning.”

Before Maia truly understood what was happening, Csevet had stepped forward and pulled him down to kiss him. Warm lips played against warm lips, Csevet’s soft yet insistent against Maia’s slightly trembling and incredibly awkward ones.

“Csevet, if dost not want to--”

“I do. I want you, Serenity.” Csevet’s breath was hot against his own mouth. Maia’s lips parted in a stunned gasp and Csevet took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue pushing velvety and softly slick against his own.

“Maia,” Maia gasped, “Please!”

“Maia,” Csevet said. It sounded like a benediction. Breaking the kiss, Csevet held Maia’s face in his hands, gently stroking his thumbs over Maia’s cheekbones. His eyes were so bright it seemed he might cry. “I’ve loved thee from the moment I met thee, I think. And have only grown to love thee more with each day. I never thought--”

He smiled and shook his head as his voice caught, a single tear escaping to run down his face.

Maia took Csevet in his arms and pulled him to his chest, cradling the back of his head in one broad palm, marveling at the softness of his hair and the strength within his small frame.

“Thy heart is beating like a wild bird trapped,” Csevet laughed, his voice slightly muffled against the fine embroidered linen of Maia’s shirt.

“I almost can’t believe this is happening,” Maia admitted. “I was afraid thou wouldst not want me. I’m still scared I might be lost in a drink-fueled dream.”

“There is the taste of wine sweet in thy mouth, but I assure thee, art not dreaming.” Csevet looked up at Maia and smiled, then slid his hands up to Maia’s shoulders. With gentle pressure, he urged Maia to lean down so that they could meet for another kiss, this one somehow even deeper than the last. “Shall I show thee what it is to ride a comet through the sky?”

Maia shivered. He knew the next line of the poem. “Love is a bond so strong through ice and heat it shall not die.”

As he and Csevet explored one another with a freedom they had never allowed themselves, Maia had the thought that he needed to thank Merrem Vizhenka for giving him the translated book of Nolemreched’s poetry. Though she could never know what it’d inspired.

And he was glad he’d had the courage to pick up the orchid nesecho.


End file.
